


Fixation

by LouRandom



Series: fixation, compulsion, temptation [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor is desperate, Hank is clueless, M/M, Masturbation, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 07:20:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17055605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouRandom/pseuds/LouRandom
Summary: Connor has an obsession.Calling it that is admittedly a little scary, so at first, he goes withmild fixation.On the outside, he’s the same as ever; successfully deviated, fired then reinstated back to the DPD as Hank’s partner. A good detective, as smart, quick and effective as he was initially built to be.The only problem is how he seems to be constantly focused—fixatedon,obsessedwith the enticing notion of Hank manhandling him and fucking him into oblivion.





	Fixation

**Author's Note:**

> so on my way home from uni i stumble upon [this magnificent post](https://vampirevalley.tumblr.com/post/179540131077/a-hannor-blurb) and proceed to write 1.2k words of self-indulgent smut
> 
> do i have regrets? nope
> 
> hope you enjoy!

Connor has an obsession.

Calling it that is admittedly a little scary, so at first, he goes with _mild fixation._

It’s a very troubling _mild fixation,_ though, of course, it doesn’t show in Connor’s outward appearance. On the outside, he’s the same as ever; well, the past few months at least. Successfully deviated, fired then reinstated back to the DPD as Hank’s partner. A good detective, as smart, quick and effective as he was initially built to be.

The only problem is how he seems to be constantly focused— _fixated_ on, _obsessed_ _with_ the enticing notion of Hank manhandling him and fucking him into oblivion.

The former part of the notion is what appealed to Connor most: the feel of Hank’s hands squeezing him and lifting him up threateningly. Giving him a warning shake. Slamming him against the wall. It had happened a few times at the tenuous start of their partnership, Hank infuriated by Connor so much he’d seemed past caring how big of a fortune Connor was worth, and now, of course, the only touches Connor received from Hank were encouraging pats on his back and shoulder. An occasional ruffling of his hair. A couple of hugs here and there—those are the nicest. And although Connor appreciates and cherishes this closeness to no end (wishing, though, for it to be less _friendly_ and more on the _passionate romantic_ spectrum), he can’t help but wish for the roughness of Hank’s touch, the strength of his arms pinning him down, or up against the wall.

Back when he hadn’t yet been truly alive, those were registered by his system as simply unnecessary acts of aggression. He didn’t _care_ back then.

Now, though, an honest-to-RA9 separate area of his RAM was dedicated to actively picturing different scenarios of Hank handling him like this, in the rough, tantalizing way only he could. The simplest hint of the memory is enough to send heat flowing towards his crotch.

It’s, to put it mildly, a bit of a problem.

And Connor is far from stupid. He’s aware how humans deal with such issues, and it’s not like he hadn’t been fitted with fully functioning genitals; every advanced model was nowadays. He felt something bothersome, verging on painful, though, before he managed to identify the feeling as shame, appearing every time he entertained said fantasies about his—the—Lieutenant, who, as far as Connor was aware, only saw him as a friend. This took up most of his free time, had his cock hardening, _leaking_ whenever he was alone and let the fantasies go on for longer, more vivid, wild.

It's on one of the evenings when Hank decides to call it an early night, that Connor finds himself on the couch, skin burning in the aftermath of a particularly long lasting touch from Hank before he said goodnight. Sometime close to the end of the basketball game they were watching, Hank had let his arm stretch over the back of the couch, forearm pressing gently against the back of Connor’s neck. It shouldn’t have made him tense, if minutely, but it did. Not with the hard, uncomfortable tension of nervousness but with the impatient, hot, scorching tension of unfulfilled _desire_. It clouded Connor’s thoughts, slowed his verbal responses and his processing power, quite a lot of his attention fixed on the possibilities of what could happen next.

Thankfully, Hank didn’t see the half-hard erection he was sporting under the baggy pants Connor had stolen previously from Hank’s wardrobe.

And, thankfully (or unfortunately?) Hank couldn’t see him now.

Connor has a hand on his cock, palming it slowly, gently through the soft fabric of his pants, innocuous videos of Hank playing and replaying on the plane of his HUD. Hank licking his lips. Hank running a hand through his hair. Hank stretching. Hank walking out of the bathroom in the mornings, half-naked. Hank smiling at Connor, eyes bright and playful, a sight that never failed to leave Connor breathless—and he didn’t even _have_ to breathe.

He quickens his strokes, now imagining, _preconstructing_ Hank pushing Connor against his desk, mouthing at Connor’s neck, hands roaming over Connor’s body and divesting him of his clothes. Better yet, Connor pictures Hank slamming him against the wall, rough and angry and impatient, grinding his hard dick against Connor’s and—

He moans Hank’s name, involuntarily, quickly shutting himself up in fear of waking Hank up.

He might not have fallen asleep yet.

Connor thinks, a wave of embarrassment hitting him, of what Hank would say, or do, if he caught him like this. If he’d be surprised, pleased, or downright _furious_ to see Connor jerking off to the image of them, together. His pants are uncomfortably constricting now, wet with precome and crumpled by Connor’s incessant strokes. He imagines Hank seeing this, eyes wide with surprise at first, then narrowing into a steely gaze. He pictures him coming closer, picking Connor up from the couch and pushing him roughly against the living room wall… _Is_ this _what you want, huh?_ Hank would growl in his ear, lifting Connor up with one arm. _For me to fuck you like this?_

Connor’s orgasm hits him unexpectedly, wave upon wave of pleasure rushing through his system and making it run overdrive. His pants are completely ruined and he doesn’t give a shit. He’s panting harshly and letting soft moans escape, all care forgotten as he chases his release. He shudders through the spasms and aftershocks, overcome with bliss, as his more analytical mind tries desperately to reboot. He then listens intently for any suspicious movement from the direction of Hank’s room.

It’s quiet.

Connor decides to remove his pants and briefs then, and touches his cock, still hard and straining. The sensations are much stronger now, and it’s all Connor can do not to groan from their intensity. His fingers wrap around his cock, and he imagines them bigger, harsher and more calloused— _Hank’s_ fingers stroking his dick to completion as he pins him with his body against a wall, Connor’s legs wrapped around Hank’s waist and Hank’s cock buried deep in his ass as he reduces Connor to a whimpering mess, fucking into him hard, over and over again…

Connor comes eight times in a span of three hours. His pants and underwear end up in the washing machine, Connor hoping to get rid of all evidence long before Hank wakes up. He’s thinking. Processing. Experiencing the aftermath of it all. Knowing that, for all the pleasure he’s experienced tonight, looking into Hank’s eyes tomorrow morning at work is going to be downright impossible.

As he commits all the possible preconstructions he’d thought of to his memory, Connor honestly can’t bring himself to care.

**Author's Note:**

> hank: *walks in on connor*  
> connor:  
> hank:  
> hank: jfc connor you were shouting my name just now i thought you were hurt  
> connor: i am  
> hank: you are?  
> connor, pouting: i'm in pain because you won't fuck me  
> hank: uhhhh  
> connor, beginning to cry: I just want your cock inside me is it too much to ask?  
> hank: okay wait a min-  
> connor, sobbing: I JUST WANT YOU TO FUCK ME  
> hank, whipping out dick: OKAy okay ffs why didn’t you say so sooner
> 
> thank you for reading! 
> 
> find me on  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/Lou_Random)  
> [tumblr](https://lou-random.tumblr.com/)  
> 


End file.
